Peanuts and Crackerjack
by cowlicklesschick
Summary: [FORMERLY Take Me Out To The Ballgame] Dot Malone arrives in town right before summer begins, with a ratty Yankees cap and a knack for memorizing stats. Benny invites her to the sandlot, but she ends up helping the boys with a lot more than just their game.
1. Chapter 1

It was early summer during sixth grade, and the sandlot was starting off with less grass than ever before. The valley was suffering a drought, the last rain having been back in March, and everywhere they looked it was brown and brown and more brown, all dreary and sick looking against the bright blue summer sky.

Still, nothing could keep Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez away from baseball. Every Saturday morning before it got hot, neighbors could hear the crack of the bat, the shouts of the kids and – a new addition this year – the encouraging barks of the team's new mascot, sitting proudly on the sidelines in his jersey and waiting eagerly for any foul ball to chase after.

Scotty figured Mr. Mertle was okay with them sorta kidnapping his dog, since the man now kept a big ice chest on his back porch that was always stocked with sodas and popsicles. Sometimes he made them sandwiches, and even Benny was willing to take a break for those.

But it wasn't summer yet, not technically anyways, so the boys all trudged to school together and suffered through the long hours, when even the stuffiest old teachers stopped caring and everyone just wanted to be out by the pool, but the school board wouldn't let them.

That year Benny, Scotty and Squints were all stuck in Miss Wallace's class – the oldest, meanest teacher in the whole school. She assigned all the even math problems just so they couldn't copy the answers from the back of their textbook. You so much as _sneezed_ during one of her pop quizzes, and you might as well kiss a whole letter grade goodbye.

Benny was currently staring out the window, oblivious to the massive spitball Squints was preparing. Miss Wallace was droning on and on about improper fractions, but Scotty had already finished the homework for this chapter so he quit paying any attention long ago. Now he was watching his friends with a grin – Squints was sure to get busted, nobody ever got anything past Miss Wallace, but boy it sure would be worth it, to see Benny's face.

Squints had no sooner put the straw to his lips when the classroom door opened, and Principal Williams walked in, with his hand on the shoulder of a girl their age.

"Miss Wallace, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said. His bald head glistened with sweat. Scotty couldn't help but feel sorry for the new girl; Principal Williams had notoriously clammy hands, something that made Scotty almost wish he could get all C's just so he wouldn't have to shake the man's hand along with all the other honor roll students at the end of every grading period.

"Not at all, Principal Williams." Just like that, Miss Wallace was all smiles. Benny rolled his eyes dramatically, and Scotty and Squints had to muffle their snickering. "Who is this lovely young lady?"

"This is Dorothy Malone. She's finishing up the sixth grade, and I think she'll fit right in in your class."

"Of course," Miss Wallace simpered, and hooked her bony fingers around Dorothy's other shoulder. "We'll make sure to help her feel welcome."

"I have no doubt. Class," Principal Williams nodded to them all, and then he was gone. Miss Wallace didn't release Dorothy, and gave the room her best glare.

"Class, I expect you all to be very kind and friendly to Miss Malone. Now, Dorothy, there's an empty seat back there behind Mr. Palledorous – Michael, raise your hand, please – and I'll find you a textbook during recess. Did you cover improper fractions at your old school?"

Dorothy nodded meekly as she slipped down the aisle. When she got close enough Scotty could see that there wasn't a spot of dirt to be found on her yellow dress, and she was wearing shiny white shoes with frilly socks. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a white bow that lay crooked on her head.

Her eyes were carefully avoiding everyone's blatant staring, and Scotty felt a little bad for her when she took her seat and hunched down behind Squints. Clearly she didn't like being the center of attention, the way every new kid is when they're introduced to a room full of peers who already have lunch buddies and teams picked for recess.

Scotty glanced over at Benny, who looked no more curious than the rest of them, but when he caught Scotty's eye he seemed to understand, and nodded quickly.

As soon as the bell rang for recess, Scotty approached her.

"H-hey."

Warily, she looked up at him. She picked at a loose thread in the hem of her dress. "Hi."

"Uh…it's Dorothy, right?"

"Dot," she corrected softly. "I like to be called Dot."

"Okay. Uh, Dot." He looked over by the door – Benny and Squints were waiting, looking only mildly impatient. "Do you wanna sit with us?"

Her brow furrowed. "You sit during recess?"

He flushed. "Well. Well, no, not really. We usually play baseball. But you're…." He gestured half-heartedly to her clean dress and white shoes, and almost missed the irritated glance she gave her clothes.

"You guys don't have to sit out just for me. I can watch."

"Oh, well, we – "

"I can _watch_ ," she insisted. "What's your name?"

"Scotty Smalls."

She stuck her hand out – her nails were all chewed up and covered in glitter nail polish. "Dot Malone. Let's go see if you guys are any good."

That was how it first started – she didn't say much, just answered whatever lame questions Scotty could think to ask her. Ham teased him mercilessly about his _girlfriend_ , but once did so within Dot's hearing and after the glare she sent his way not another word was uttered on the subject.

The rest of them just sort of…tolerated her. They seemed to understand that letting her tag along and watch their games was the nice, decent thing to do, was in fact something that Scotty would have appreciated at the close of the previous school year, so they never complained. They always said hello, and Benny even started carrying out a chair so she wouldn't get her nice dresses dirty sitting on the grass.

But they didn't really include her either, until one afternoon, just three days before school let out. Phillips and his goons started trash talking Benny, trying to pick a fight and land them all in a heap of trouble. It wasn't until Ham's last few innings – in which he'd struck out more often than not – were mentioned that Dot spoke up for the first time.

"Yeah, Porter probably learned to swing a bat from his mommy," Phillips mocked. "You hit, what, three out of ten last game?"

Ham's jaw tightened, but before Benny could say one word in his defense, a lighter voice sounded from behind him.

"Actually, he batted a 0.667. _You_ barely scraped by with a 0.544, so I don't think you're the one to start slingin' mud, pretty boy."

Every head turned to stare at Dot, who stood in her periwinkle dress with the eyelet trim and her white shoes and frilly socks and her hands planted on her hips, a scowl on her face and quite suddenly, Scotty realized that Dot didn't just watch baseball because they'd invited her.

"Who's the dollface?" Phillips sneered.

"I'm Dot," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "And I don't appreciate you messing with my friends, so you either shut up or I'll tell all the girls I saw you picking your nose during the Pledge of Allegiance."

Even Benny snickered at that, and when Phillips stomped away furiously, the rest of them just kept staring at their self-imposed team member.

"Where'd you learn to do batting averages?"

"And how'd you do math in your _head?_ "

"Did Ham really bat a 0.667?"

"Did Phillips really pick his nose?"

"I bet he _ate_ it."

"Nah, he's probably a flicker."

"What are you guys, stupid? He probably wiped it on the seat in front of him. It'll be all crusty and dried now, though."

Dot just watched them all, looking confused but just a little fond, when Benny stepped forward.

"You like to watch baseball, don't you?"

She nodded. "I used to watch it all the time, with my dad back in New York."

"You're from New York?" Scotty blurted.

She smiled for the first time. "Yeah."

Benny took a couple steps closer. "Okay, Dot. Big question – Mets or Yankees?"

"Yankees." She didn't hesitate, and everyone nodded approvingly.

"You know who Babe Ruth is?"

The smile dropped right off her face, giving way to an insulted expression. "What kind of person doesn't know who Babe Ruth is?"

Ham elbowed Scotty pointedly, who blushed and shrugged.

Dot stared at him. "You didn't know – "

"I never played baseball before."

She eyed him. "Well, thank heavens you found these clowns."

To Scotty's surprise, even he was able to chuckle at that.

"You wanna come by the sandlot this Saturday?" Benny said suddenly.

She squinted. "What's the sandlot?"

"It's where we play ball during the summer," Benny explained. He didn't see the dumbfounded, horrified expressions the other boys were giving him.

Dot did, though, and her face fell. "Oh…well, that's okay. I don't want to get in the way."

And without another word, she turned around and walked back up the hill towards the school.

Benny frowned and started to go after her, but Ham grabbed his arm. "Benny, what're you thinking? We can't invite some dame to the sandlot!"

Dot's shoulders stiffened at Ham's loud tone. Scotty winced.

"Why not?" Benny demanded, only to be rewarded with cries of outrage.

"What do you mean, _why not?_ "

"It's our sanctuary!"

"She'd probably bring flowers or somethin' for the tree fort!"

"Or worse, she'd make us paint it _pink_."

"The dugout wouldn't smell right anymore – like perfume and that weird leaf stuff my mom puts around the house – pour-poo-ree."

"Enough!" Benny finally yelled. "So what if she wears dresses? She knows baseball. And you'd think after she just defended _you_ to Phillips you'd be a little more grateful," he shot at Ham, who looked a little shamefaced, but not completely convinced.

"But Benny – "

"Don't _but Benny_ me. What if we hadn't let Smalls in?"

"Actually, this is worse than not letting me in," Scotty ventured. " _She_ at least knows a little bit about baseball."

Nobody had much of anything to say to that.

"Let's just invite her to watch, okay? She ain't gonna take over, she just needs us to be nice. Can you blockheads do that?" Benny glared at them all.

Now all a good bit more ashamed than they had been to start, the group nodded grudgingly and mumbled under their breaths as they made their way back inside.

By the time Scotty, Benny and Squints got back to their classroom, Dot was already in her seat, drawing and carefully ignoring them both. Scotty felt bad, but he supposed he couldn't blame her. Ham wasn't mean-spirited, but he could come across a bit harsh every so often and it always made things awfully sticky to patch up.

Benny apparently didn't care much if she was ignoring him or not. He plopped into the empty seat right in front of her – Squints' – and twisted around so he could rest his arms on her desk.

"Hey."

She raised her eyebrows, but kept drawing.

Scotty felt even worse. "Dot, c'mon. They didn't mean it. Honest."

She glanced up at him.

"You've all been very nice to me," she said quietly. "But the sandlot is where you all spend time during the summer and I don't want to ruin that."

"But we could really use your help!" Benny protested.

She scoffed. "How so?"

"I've watched you – you pay attention to positions, you probably have stats memorized for all of us. Am I wrong?"

Dot stared at him, blushing slightly. "I don't – "

"C'mon, Malone," pleaded Scotty.

Benny turned around and gave Squints the stink-eye.

"Uh, yeah…we could really use some, uh….input."

Scotty winced. Benny rolled his eyes, but looked hopefully at Dot anyway.

"Please?"

Scotty had never seen Benny imitate a puppy before, but it worked – Dot rolled her eyes, huffed, and mumbled " _Fine_ " under her breath, but when Benny grinned at her and went to his own seat, a tiny smile turned up one corner of her mouth, and Scotty knew she was going to love the sandlot.

/

Benny was thrilled.

Their little rag-tag team had all the positions covered, but one thing they didn't have was someone to keep stats. He himself knew his own batting average, but since he was always playing, it made it hard sometimes to keep track of everyone's weak spots.

Dot didn't show that Saturday morning, though, and he worried the inside of his cheek for a minute or two before deciding that he wasn't going to waste good daylight when he could be playing baseball, and Dot could just come when she felt like it.

They were still warming up when Smalls grinned, and he pointed over Benny's shoulder.

Dot was wearing overall shorts and a red t-shirt, dirty sneakers and a Yankees cap. Benny couldn't help but feel relieved – if she'd shown up in one of her pretty dresses, the guys would've had an even harder time accepting her. As it was, Ham still skulked in the back of the group until Benny shoved him forward with a glare.

Ham grumbled and scuffed his feet, but Dot stood patiently without any trace of bitterness as he gave a very weak apology, one that made even Denunez wince. Dot just nodded and thanked him, and moved to the make-shift dugout.

Something told him he ought to go say hello, but her back was too him and then everyone was waiting for him to start play; she turned at the last second and gave a feeble wave, and he just nodded shortly and trotted back to home plate.

"I dunno about this, man." Denunez shook his head.

"Trust me. Maybe she can't play, but she knows how the game works. She's exactly what we need."

"If you say so," he muttered. Benny stretched, noticing the irritated glares the others were sending Dot's way, and also how she seemed to be ignoring all of them. He tried not to worry, and turned his attention to the first pitch.

Before long he was in the rhythm of the game, aiming his shots to certain parts of the outfield to give the others some practice. It wasn't until Mr. Mertle called them from his back porch that they took a break, and by then it was lunch time. Benny's shirt was drenched in sweat and he was really hoping their neighbor had some sandwiches, but when he reached the porch steps Scotty elbowed him.

"What?"

"Dot."

Benny looked back; sure enough, Dot was still sitting in the dugout. He winced. The boys' reactions today and earlier at school had really done their damage. He sighed and ran over.

"Hey."

She looked up from where the toe of her sneaker was dragging idly through the dirt. Her hair was a little messier than it had been to start, and she looked hot and tired, but she smiled just the same. "Hi."

"Mr. Mertle's got lunch for us. Sandwiches and pop and stuff."

Dot looked skeptical, and glanced behind him towards the others. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Look, they don't like changing things around here. It took them ages to get used to Smalls. Just give 'em time."

She nodded slowly, and got up to follow him. When they reached the steps again, Mr. Mertle paused in handing Yeah-Yeah his soda.

"Who's your friend, Benny?"

Something about the way he asked it made Benny want to squirm, but with as much nagging as he'd done for the boys not to hurt Dot's feelings, he had to practice what he preached.

So, he gestured with one hand and said, "This is Dot Malone. She's gonna keep stats for us."

"That so?" Mr. Mertle raised his eyebrows, and moved a stack of old magazines off a rickety lawn chair. "Have a seat, little missy. You like grape or cherry soda?"

"Cherry, please." Dot crossed her ankles under her chair and spread her allotted paper towel across her lap. Ham and Bertram watched in blatant disgust.

For several minutes, no one said anything. Benny had run out of ways to make the boys talk to her, and he wasn't sure how he could do it nonverbally without hitting somebody. Then –

"So, Dot, how'd you come to know baseball?"

Benny shot Mr. Mertle a grateful look. The old man winked subtly at him.

Dot swallowed her bite of sandwich. "My dad taught me. He used to take me to Yankees games."

"Yankees, huh?"

"Hey, Mr. Mertle?" Yeah-Yeah frowned. "How come Dot's the only one who gets a chair?"

Benny closed his eyes; Dot looked around as though just now noticing that all the boys were sitting on the porch floor. He saw the pink spread across her cheeks, and wished he were sitting close enough to Yeah-Yeah to thump in the ear.

"You go asking questions like that, son, and I'll start to think you don't have any manners." Mr. Mertle chuckled. He handed Squints another soda.

Benny was just beginning to wonder if they might quit playing early today, it was so awkward and obvious they didn't want Dot there, when Hercules appeared from his doghouse.

Dot's handful of potato chips froze halfway to her mouth; her eyes were so big they looked as though they'd bust out of her skull, but when Hercules came up the porch steps and started sniffing them all hello, Benny was relieved when she didn't tense up or shy away.

Hercules eventually noticed the newcomer, and immediately made his way over to her. With his size, his snout was exactly eye-level with Dot in her chair, and the boys all watched to see if she'd squeal _yuck_ or cry or something.

Hercules snuffled her hair, and his big pink tongue left shining trails all over her face. To everyone's surprise, she giggled.

"That's Hercules," Mr. Mertle, sounding as pleased as Benny felt. "He likes you, seems."

"I like dogs," Dot said quietly. She put her plate down and used both hands to rub Hercules' ears. The dog sat back on his haunches, closed his eyes and enjoyed the royal treatment.

Yeah-Yeah looked profoundly disappointed, as if he'd hoped Hercules would chase her away, but Dot was smiling bigger than Benny had ever seen her before.

"He usually scares people off with his breath," Smalls offered timidly. Dot just shrugged.

"No worse than any other dog."

She moved to scratch under his chin. One meaty hind leg began to thump on the floorboards.

"He likes baseball," Benny finally said. Dot's grin got even bigger.

"Course he does. He's a smart dog."

"Careful now," Mr. Mertle warned. "Some folks say he's real vicious. Almost beast-like."

Squints frowned, but even Ham and Yeah-Yeah elbowed him at the joke. Dot just looked at Benny, puzzled. He grinned.

"Long story. I'll tell you later."

The team seemed to be slightly less frosty towards Dot as lunch progressed, and when they said their thank-yous and went back out to play, Ham pulled Benny aside at the plate.

"Guess she ain't so bad, Benny," he conceded. "Any girl who lets a dog slobber all over her like that can't be too much of a priss."

It was a far cry from the friendliness Benny knew Dot probably was craving, but it was a start. He'd take small victories whenever they came.

"Glad to hear it, Ham. Let's play."

Dot didn't go back to the dugout after lunch; instead she stood far beyond the outfield, watching closely. The boys mostly ignored her, which was largely due to the fact that she was never in their way. Benny noticed more than once she knew where a runner or outfielder was going before they got there, and always stepped in the opposite direction so she wouldn't interfere with the play.

He grinned to himself. This girl knew baseball inside and out, just like him. He couldn't wait to talk to her after.

All too soon, the sun started its descent, and they all turned to head home. Benny as usual was the last one to gather his glove and bat, and he saw Dot heading towards the gate.

"Hey, Dot!"

She waited for him, looking confused.

"What's the point in you keeping stats if you ain't gonna tell me what they are?"

She stared.

"You mean you actually wanted me to help?"

Now it was Benny's turn to be confused. "Well…yeah. That's why I asked you to come, isn't it?"

Dot seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally she scuffed her toes and muttered, "I thought you just felt sorry for me, not having any friends and nothing to do all summer."

Benny opened his mouth to say how ridiculous that was, then realized – that was probably exactly how it looked.

"Well, uh. That's…it's not – look, I really meant it. You know baseball, and we could use somebody on the field who knows what they're doing. You could really help us improve our game."

Silently, Dot eyed him for a moment more, then –

"You need to start with Smalls. Has he ever played _anything_ before?"

Benny laughed. "Nah, but trust me – he's tons better than he was last year."

"Well, this summer he oughta build up his stamina – he gets winded running across just half the outfield. Now I see why you never put him up to bat. He'd never make it around the bases."

It sounded simple enough, but Dot wasn't finished.

"Ham could throw a lot harder if he'd just put his weight behind it. His whole arm's like a limp noodle. And Bertram doesn't even _pretend_ to dive for the ball. Maybe he's afraid of messing up his glasses – I don't know. And your pitcher, Denunuez, he – what?"

Benny tried to stop smiling, but he couldn't help it. "Sorry, I'm not making fun, promise. It's just – you noticed all that without even knowing you were supposed to?"

Dot flushed, but shot back, "Maybe all that stuff's so obvious I didn't have to try."

He laughed again, but was glad the others weren't around to hear it.

By now they'd reached the four-way stop that sat between his and Smalls' house. He hesitated.

"You, uh – I can walk you home, if you want." Mr. Mertle's admonition about manners echoed in his head.

"Oh," Dot seemed embarrassed. "You don't have to – it's not very close by."

He frowned. "How far is it?"

She mumbled, "Maple Street."

Benny almost dropped his bat in surprise – Maple Street was one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in town. The houses there were the closest thing to mansions you'd find outside of Beverly Hills.

It was also on the other side of town, and by now it was nearly dark.

"Wait here."

He ran inside, stuck his bat and glove in his room, yelled to his mom that he'd be right back, and wheeled his bicycle from the garage out to where Dot was waiting patiently.

"Benny, I can't take your bike – "

"Dot, just hop on, okay?" He hitched one leg over the seat and gestured with his head to the sturdy hubs, like short pieces of metal pipe, that stuck out of the center of his back wheel. She shook her head.

"Then you'll be coming home by yourself in the dark, Benny, I don't wanna get you in trouble with your mom."

"My mama knows I can take care of myself. And I'll stick to where the streetlights are. C'mon, Dot."

After a moment more, she sighed and stepped onto the hubs. Her hands rested gently on his shoulders for balance, only tightening for a second when he started to pedal.

She didn't say much on the ride, but Benny sensed that maybe she was embarrassed or even regretted coming today. He had to talk loud since she was behind him.

"I hope you don't take any of it personally, what all the boys did today."

"I don't," she said. "If they really were mean, they wouldn't have let me watch you all at school. They just like how things are and don't want somebody messing it all up."

He had to stop at a crosswalk, and peered over his shoulder at her. "But you're not gonna mess things up. You're gonna make 'em better."

Dot's eyes widened, but just then the light changed and he pedaled across the street. The next turn was into her neighborhood, and she quietly directed him to her house – the biggest one on the block. All the windows were dark.

He coasted up the driveway, but she jumped off before he came to a total stop. "Thanks for the ride."

"Don't mention it." He tried not to stare – Dot wasn't even looking at him, but somehow it seemed like she was mortified to have such a nice house. "See you Monday."

"Yeah." She paused. "Has Miss Wallace always been such a sour-puss?"

"Yep," he grinned. "She's mean to everybody, even the other teachers. Except Principal Williams."

"You know what I think, she's sweet on him." Dot nodded emphatically.

Benny had to laugh at her serious tone. "You think so?"

"Uh-huh. Bet she's got a cat named after him. Maybe more than one."

At this point, he was almost falling off his bike from laughing, but he'd never been so grossed out. "You should ask her tomorrow to show you pictures of all her cats."

"Ugh, no – we'd miss lunch for sure." Dot wrinkled her nose.

Just then, the porch light flicked on. She gave the front door a nervous glance. "I'd better go. Bye, Benny."

"Bye."

The ride home went by much faster, but even through supper and the checkers game with his little brother, all the way through when he climbed into bed and turned off the light, Benny couldn't help but wish there was some way to make the boys like her.

/


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Dot found herself hopping on Benny's bike every morning. She wasn't sure how early he was getting up, but he was always waiting in her driveway when she snuck out her bedroom window, and they spent the ride to the sandlot going over stats. The rest of the team, with the exception of Scotty, hadn't really warmed up to her yet, so any tips Dot had would be discussed with Benny first before he relayed them to the others.

To his delight, the team had improved thanks to the advice Dot was giving. It made her happy, too – like she had a purpose, even if the boys denied their progress had anything to do with her. She was confident they'd come around; they weren't a mean bunch, just stubborn.

This morning, though, was the sort of summer morning that left you standing in the middle of the yard for a few minutes before the heat chased you back inside to watch cartoons. Sticky and sour-smelling, the asphalt radiated waves onto her bare legs, turning them lobster-red before they even passed Scotty's house.

Dot hopped off the bike when they reached his driveway as usual, and fell into step beside him as they walked the remaining distance to the sandlot. They came through the hole in the fence, and found every last boy slumped in the dugout like flowers.

Ham wasted no time with greetings. "It's too hot to play, Benny."

Dot had to agree with him; Benny frowned. "Well what else are we gonna do? Now that we're banned from the pool thanks to Squints here."

The boys thwacked Squints with their gloves, grumbling and ignoring his protests about how it was for a good cause.

"How'd you get banned from the pool?" Dot asked. Back in New York, that only happened if you made a habit out of peeing in the water. She sincerely hoped none of these boys would do something like _that_.

"Squints here decided he couldn't live another minute without getting a taste of Wendy Peffercorn." Ham scowled. "She threw him out and the rest of us, too."

"And now it's too hot to play baseball but we can't go swimming 'cause you couldn't keep your lips to yourself." Yeah-Yeah complained.

Dot eyed Squints. "You kissed her?"

"Best ten seconds of my life," he responded dreamily.

Dot wanted to laugh, but she rolled her eyes instead. "Well, so long as you keep your lips to yourself, we can go to my house. I've got a pool."

Denunez's eyes popped. "Of your very own?"

"Well, it's my…my mom's," she stammered. "But I'm the only one who uses it."

Benny was watching her carefully. Scotty jumped up.

"So we meet here in five minutes, and we can change at your house?"

She grinned. Scotty _really_ wanted to go swimming. "Sure."

With a yell, they all ran for the gate. Benny started, but turned and motioned for her to follow him. "You can have a pop or something while I get my stuff," he explained. "'Sides, my mom wants to meet you."

Dot gulped. "She does?"

"Yep." He grinned at her. "My mama taught me everything I know about baseball. She was pretty excited to hear there was a girl at the sandlot."

Dot still felt nervous, but she smiled, pleased.

Benny's house was like all the others on the street, only she could smell something cooking the minute she set foot inside. Benny led her down the hall to the kitchen, where a little boy in Flintstone pajamas sat with a bowl of cereal at the table.

"Hiya, Benny!"

Benny smiled and ruffled the kid's hair before calling over to the small woman at the stove.

"Mama, this is Dot."

The woman turned, and Dot instantly felt at ease. Mrs. Rodriguez was almost a full head shorter than Benny, and her dark hair was in a tight braid down her back. Her cheeks were rosy and had matching dimples when she smiled, which was often.

"Ah, Dot!" She bustled over and enveloped her in a hug. Dot looked at Benny over her shoulder, surprised. Mrs. Rodriguez pulled back, but kept Dot's hands in hers. "I am so happy to meet you. Benny's told me what a help you've been at the sandlot."

"Oh. Um…thanks, Mrs. Rodriguez." Dot stammered.

"Oh no, dear, you must call me Esperanza. Come, sit. What's happened to bring Benny inside before sundown?"

Benny rolled his eyes, grinning. "We're all going to Dot's house to swim. I've gotta get my trunks."

He exited the room, and the younger boy trotted after him excitedly. Esperanza smiled as she sat across the table from Dot.

Suddenly remembering something that her dad had always asked in situations like these, Dot blurted, "Oh – um, the housekeeper will be there, and I know how to swim really good. I took lifeguard training back in New York."

Esperanza looked surprised. "Oh? You're rather young to be a lifeguard."

She felt stupid, but she mumbled, "My dad was afraid of me falling in the ocean. I liked to sneak off sometimes and go down to the docks."

"Ah." Esperanza smiled knowingly. "Seems your father knew he couldn't keep you out of trouble."

To her horror, Dot's throat got that awful lump that felt like she'd swallowed a bag of marbles. She tried to force past it, but that just made her eyes water, and she stared at her lap.

"Oh." Esperanza said softly. A moment later one of her hands rested on Dot's. "Well, it's very generous of you to invite the boys over. Benny likes swimming almost as much as baseball, but of course he'll deny it."

Dot gratefully nodded, and sniffed quickly as she heard Benny coming back down the hall from his room.

"Ready?" he said, hoisting a small duffel bag over his shoulder. "I'll be back for dinner, Mama."

"All right," she smiled. "Have fun – and don't you dare let Squints anywhere near her. No more of this faked-drowning business."

"I know, Mama," Benny grinned, and motioned with his head out the door. Dot waved goodbye and followed him back across the street. Just before they reached the fence, he turned to ask her something and paused, frowning.

"Are you crying?"

"What?" Horrified, she rubbed the back of her fist vigorously across her face. "No. I don't cry."

He eyed her for a moment longer, and shrugged. "Okay."

They had to wait a little longer on Smalls, because his mother insisted on dousing him with fifty layers of sunscreen, but finally they were all ready to go. Benny took the lead of their little pack, with Dot riding behind him and his duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

It was fun, even if Benny took turns a little too fast just to scare her, but Dot still grew more and more nervous as they got closer to her house.

"Hey, Dot, you really live _here_?" Denunez called. She could only nod, and gripped Benny's shoulders tighter.

"Relax," he told her quietly over his shoulder. "If they're dumb you can always kick 'em out."

It made her snort, but she felt better even as they all parked their bikes in the driveway. Benny must have given them a warning glare behind her back, because once she led them inside she could tell they were all trying not to gawk.

"This way." They followed her down the hall, through the enormous living room that had full length windows running along the entire back wall. The backyard was brown like everything else with the summer heat, but the pool took up most of it anyway.

The boys all heaved a collective sigh when they saw it, but Dot veered to the right and down a short hallway.

"You guys can change in here. The bathroom's the second door on the right back that way," she pointed. "I'm gonna change in my room upstairs, and don't any of you get in that water until I get back."

Several of them nodded fervently, but she still ran up the stairs and hurriedly tugged open the drawer for her bathing suits. For the first time, she was glad she had some variety; most of her old ones from New York were frayed and embarrassing to swim in when she was by herself, let alone with a bunch of stupid boys. But her newer ones, bought out here in California, made her squirm in embarrassment for a different reason. She pulled out a yellow one-piece, with frothy ruffles around the neck and hips – _"ruffles are so becoming, honey, you'll drive all the boys crazy"_ – and immediately shoved it back into the drawer. She lucked out and found a navy blue one that was plain and comfortable; once she'd adjusted her ponytail and put on some sunscreen, she ran back downstairs to find all of the boys waiting impatiently by the door.

"Okay," she cleared her throat, tried not to be nervous. "Since none of you can swim that good, you gotta stay out of the deep end – "

"We _know_ ," Squints rolled his eyes.

Dot sighed, but opened the door and moved out of the way so they could all race to the water. None of them eased in, of course, and she grinned when Ham's cannonball sent a small tsunami onto the patio.

"This is great. I can't believe you leave this and come to the sandlot every day." Benny put his towel on one of the chairs.

Dot snorted. "What, you think I'd have more fun in a big pool by myself instead of watching a bunch of idiots play baseball?"

Benny's eyebrows shot upwards, but he grinned. "Guess not."

"Hey, Malone!" Yeah-Yeah smirked at her from where he rested his elbows on the edge. "You ain't one of those girls who's afraid to get your hair wet, are ya?"

Dot grinned, and dropped her own towel on the chair next to Benny's as she took a running leap and dove into the deep end. When she surfaced, she was met with impressed stares; she swum over to where they were gathered in the larger shallow end.

"What, you ain't never seen a real cannonball before?"

They laughed; Ham's nostrils flared, but before he could make any kind of reply, something snagged Dot's ankle and she went under with a yelp. Spluttering and coughing, she stood up again to see Benny behind her, laughing uproariously.

"Aw, c'mon, your hair was already wet."

She lunged; they all spent the next few hours splashing and goofing off. Smalls took almost thirty minutes to find anyone in Marco Polo, which was nearly disastrous when Denunez accidentally lured him towards the deep end. Dot barely managed to pull him back in time.

It was around lunch time that the back door opened, and Clarisse came through with a big tray that she set on the patio table under the umbrella.

"Thanks," Dot called, but only received a short wave in response.

She sighed. "You guys hungry?"

They were, of course, and spent a great deal of unnecessary time and energy pushing each other back into the water in an effort to be the first one to the food.

Dot was relieved when it turned out to just be cold-cut sandwiches and potato chips. Some grapes were in a big bowl, and there were even chilled bottles of water.

They feasted, with Ham and Squints tossing grapes into each other's mouths across the table; Dot felt her ponytail trickling pool water down her back, felt the sunburn creeping up her thighs, and laughed at Benny's face when Ham's aim was off and a grape hit him on the nose.

It was, she decided, turning out to be a pretty good summer.

/

Smalls had only ever been swimming in public pools; the nicest was a hotel when his mom won a contest at work for a trip to Disney Land. This, however, was much nicer. Dot had seemed embarrassed for them to see her house, though, which he didn't understand. It was a big house, which he supposed meant her family had a lot of money, but she didn't dress or act like any of the rich girls he knew from the other school across town. They always seemed to wrinkle their noses a little bit whenever they looked at him.

Dot was just nice. And she liked baseball, and he knew she had already given Benny some tips on how they could play better, but she didn't want them to think she was bossing them around so she tried to make it seem like they were all Benny's ideas.

But she also seemed kinda sad, all the time. He had a hunch as to why, but he didn't dare ask – anyway he supposed it was none of his business. Still, it was nice to hear her laugh whenever Ham and Squints goofed off.

They finished lunch and splashed around in the pool for a couple more hours before the sun started to go down. Waterlogged and tired, they climbed out and went back inside to change. Someone had laid towels on the floor leading to the back bedroom, and he took care to wipe his feet so he didn't get the carpet wet.

"Boy, some digs huh?" Ham toweled his face and hair dry. "Betcha her dad's one of them rich lawyer types."

"I think her dad died," Scotty blurted before he stopped to think.

Everyone went still, looking at him.

"What makes you say that?" Benny looked worried.

Scotty shrugged. "Just 'cause the way she talks about him. My dad died too, y'know, when I was really little."

Stunned silence.

"Gee, Smalls, I didn't know that," Denunez mutters.

The rest of them followed suit, shuffling their feet awkwardly and offering their apologies. He sighed.

"No, it's fine. I don't remember him and I've got a dad now, anyway. But I think that's why she's sad so much."

"Sad?" Benny echoed. "She don't seem sad to me."

"I've seen her when she thinks no one's watching," Scotty shook his head. "Maybe I'm wrong, but I'd bet anything something bad happened in New York to make her move all the way across the country."

The rest of them thought for a moment.

"She talked to my mom while I was getting my stuff," Benny mused. "When I came back into the kitchen I thought she was crying. But she said she wasn't."

"Some girls don't like you to seem 'em cry," Bertram said wisely. "My sister threw a _lamp_ at my head because I walked into the living room while she was having a sob fest."

"Over what?" Ham seemed horrified that the emotional range of females could be so extreme.

"How should I know? She cries when our neighbor takes his puppy for a walk." Bertram scowled.

" _Anyway_ ," Benny cut in, rolling his eyes, "if Smalls is right, then we gotta do something."

"Do something?"

"Yeah," Benny looked around, surprised at the lack of enthusiasm. "She's been real nice to us, we should do something for her."

"How come?" Squints whined. He received a smack on the back of his head.

"You losers – d'you have any idea how much she's helped us already in just two weeks?" Benny glared at them. "We're playing better than we ever have, and she's not asked us for one thing in return."

"She also let us come over to her house and swim in her pool," Denunez admitted reluctantly.

"And she kept me from drowning," Smalls offered.

Ham frowned, scratched his head. "Well…I guess we could offer to…I dunno, let her come with us to the carnival?"

"Gee, Ham, you're a real stand-up guy," Benny snapped. "C'mon, I don't like talking about this where she might hear us. We'll sleep tonight in the treehouse."

They followed him back to the front door; Dot appeared over the banister, wearing a huge bathrobe and waving goodbye, and right as the door closed Scotty saw her smile fade.

/

It wasn't the best plan, Benny decided, but it was already evident to him that Dot wasn't fussy, and seemed to be the kind of person who would appreciate the gesture rather than the gift.

Shame it took nearly all night to bully Ham into it.

The rest of the boys had eventually seen things his way – mostly thanks to Smalls. But Ham had sulked for so long that just before they all drifted off to sleep, they had all run back home to beg a couple dollars from their parents and met back at the treehouse, their plan officially all set.

He took the last turn into Dot's neighborhood, and wondered how he was supposed to act. If Smalls was right, and something really bad happened in New York, then she probably didn't want to be reminded of it. But if he acted like nothing was different, would that make her think they didn't care if she was sad? The thought bothered him, but he was given no more time to ponder it because Dot was already waiting at the end of her driveway.

She didn't wait for him to come to a complete stop before she hopped on; her smile seemed a little bigger today.

"Still too hot to play baseball?"

She scoffed in way of reply. He grinned, took the turn back onto the main road just a little bit too fast, and his grin changed into a laugh when she rapped lightly on the back of his head.

"Cut it out, or I'll mix up yours and Smalls' batting averages on purpose."

It was his turn to snort. "If I couldn't tell those apart on my own I wouldn't be much of a player."

Dot laughed, loudly enough for Benny to wonder if Smalls was right, after all.

Her hands tightened their hold when he pulled over in front of Vincent's Drug Store.

"What are we doing here?"

He shrugged, hoping she didn't see the guys all inside yet. They were at least keeping away from the windows. "Gotta get an extra ball."

She didn't say anything, but frowned in confusion when he held the door for her. Another thing Mr. Mertle would probably have wanted him to do.

"Guys?"

Dot looked around, sounding almost nervous as she took in the entire team standing in the back of the shop, holding their dirty caps and shuffling their feet. Benny cleared his throat, suddenly wishing this had been someone else's idea so he wouldn't have to give a speech.

"Listen, Dot, you've really helped us out this summer, so to say thanks we…uh, we're getting you your own glove."

"Any kind you want," Squints jumped in, sounding as excited as if the whole thing had been his idea.

Dot stared at them all, standing in her ratty overall shorts and dirty sneakers and pink sunburn on her cheeks and nose, and Benny realized that somehow in the middle of her memorizing batting averages and giving fastball tips to Denunez, she'd become their friend.

"You ain't gonna cry, are ya?" Ham frowned suspiciously.

Surprised, Dot frowned right back. "I don't cry."

" _All_ girls cry," Bertram scoffed.

"Well, I don't." Dot crossed her arms, scuffed her toes on the worn linoleum. "You guys don't have to buy me a glove."

"No," Benny jumped in before anyone else could say something stupid. "But we want to. We're playing better than ever thanks to you."

Dot eyed him for a moment longer before her gaze turned to the shelf behind him. She surveyed the gloves for a moment before pointing with her chin. "That one'll do."

Benny stared for a moment. "An…an outfielder?"

"No way you got the arm for that." Yeah-Yeah crossed his arms.

Dot glared. "Buy it, and I'll prove you wrong."

Well, they loved nothing if not a challenge. Mr. Vincent wrapped it up, and Dot held onto Benny with her free hand the rest of the way to the sandlot.

"You guys didn't have to buy me anything," she said quietly as he parked his bike.

Benny looked up, trying to figure out why she sounded so bothered by it. "It was just a thank you, is all." It came out a bit more defensively than he'd intended, and Dot looked up, panicked.

"No, it was really nice. And I like it a lot. Just – " She hesitated. "My mom has a lot of money. She can buy me whatever I want, and if you guys had to spend your saving money, I'd feel bad."

So _that's_ what it was. Benny shrugged.

"Well, if you're able to buy an extra ball or two when Hercules steals 'em, we can call it even."

She grinned. "Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

_**I'm really sorry about the wait. I had to finish school, then I graduated, had a death in the family, and then got sick. Hope this is worth it for you guys. Thanks for all the support!**_

/

Benny was worried.

Maybe he was being stupid, but for the past two months he'd been at the end of Dot's driveway first thing every morning, and he'd never waited longer than ten or fifteen minutes before she'd appear around the corner from the back yard.

It had been almost half an hour by his watch, and there was no sign of her.

He chewed his lip for a moment before deciding to risk the gate; the pool filter was humming quietly, but still no Dot.

Maybe she was tired. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she didn't want to come to the sandlot anymore. The thought bothered him – even Yeah-Yeah was warming up to her now. Smalls would be devastated. And Benny…well, he liked having her around. She was fun, could shut Ham up better than anybody, and knew baseball almost as well as than Benny did.

Finally, seeing no alternative, he went back around front and rang the doorbell.

The same lady he remembered from bringing them lunch while they played in the pool answered the door. She looked much more severe than anyone who could possibly be related to Dot, but he tugged his cap off his head anyway.

"Um…hi? I'm Benny Rodriguez, and I was wondering…d'you know if Dot is sick or something?"

"Sick?" The severe frown grew sharper.

Benny swallowed. "Uh…y-yes ma'am. She usually comes and plays baseball with us in town, but she's never been this late coming."

"Dorothy is out with her mother," the woman finally announced, apparently realizing he wasn't going away until he got an answer. "The cotillion is the day after tomorrow and Dorothy didn't have a dress."

 _The cotillion?_ But somehow he knew vocalizing his disdain wouldn't end well. He nodded and tried for a polite smile. "Oh. Okay, then. Thank you."

By the time he made it back to the sandlot, the boys were anxious. And he himself was no closer to understanding the whole mess.

"Where ya been, Benny?"

"Hey, where's Malone?"

"Yeah, yeah I wanted to show her – I worked on that back-handed catch she showed me yesterday. She coming?"

"No." Benny parked his bike, and faced the team. "She's out shopping with her mom."

"Shopping?" Bertram seemed surprised that Dot would participate in such a _girly_ activity. "What for?"

Somehow Benny knew there was a reason Dot hadn't mentioned anything about a cotillion till now, but he also knew lying to the boys for her would be disastrous. He grimaced. "The housekeeper lady said something about a cotillion."

"What's a _cotillion_?" Ham asked, already curling his lip in preparation for anything that would take Dot away from baseball.

"My mom's talked about hers," Smalls piped up. "They get all dressed up and I think there's dancing."

Squints looked horrified. "She ditched us to go to _that?_ "

"I don't think she wanted to," Benny said. "If she was planning on this she woulda told us. Let's…let's just play. We can ask her about it whenever she shows up."

Grumbling, they started warming up. They went through their drills, took their normal positions and played just like they did every other day – only it didn't feel right. There were no shouts from the dugout or along the baselines to hustle or plant their feet just so when they threw to home plate. Everyone's game was off, even Benny's, and by the time the sun hit midpoint in the sky they were all more than a little cantankerous.

Mr. Mertle was nowhere to be seen, so they all trudged to their homes for lunch, but were in no better spirits when they reconvened.

"This sucks," Ham suddenly declared. "How come we can't play right when she ain't here?"

"Gee, Ham, I didn't realize you even listened to me in the first place."

Benny whirled; Dot was approaching from the fence and looked nervous. He eyed her usual attire of overall cutoffs and sneakers, her frayed Yankees cap sticking out of a pocket.

"Where ya been?"

She looked a little ashamed. "My mom woke me up early this morning and said we had to go shopping. I didn't even have a chance to tell you guys. I'm sorry."

Benny felt himself relaxing as he took in the worried frown and the way she wouldn't meet any of their eyes. If she couldn't come every day that was fine, they all had family stuff every now and then. But as long as she _wanted_ to be here….

"Benny said you had to go shopping for…for the…what was it called? The – "

"Cotillion," Dot finished, sighing. "Look, I don't wanna go. I'm not gonna have any friends there, it's all a bunch of snobby rich people."

"And you have to dress up," Bertram added, almost sounding sympathetic.

Dot frowned, and shrugged. "I don't mind getting dressed up. My dress is actually really pretty."

Benny knew even he was staring, but he couldn't help it. Dot looked annoyed, but like she wanted to laugh too.

"I'm still a girl, y'know."

Benny flushed and nodded, but Ham wasn't finished.

"Why is your mom making you go, if you don't know anybody there?"

Her look darkened. "It's a _tradition_ for the girls in my family to go to this stupid thing, apparently. I was supposed to go last summer, but I was still in New York." Dot crossed her arms.

Nobody knew what to say; eventually she huffed impatiently.

"I've waited this long to watch some baseball. Can we get started?"

They all jolted into action, suddenly eager to play their best to cheer her up. They were successful, anyway, and Benny grinned for fifteen minutes straight when he made her laugh by purposefully tripping over first base.

The day ended much, much better than it had started, and it felt like no time at all had passed before the sky was darkening. Dot looked around at them all happily.

"You guys are playing really good," she said. Benny felt something warm and squishy start spreading through his stomach, but somehow it wasn't such a bad feeling. He wheeled his bike over to her while she gave Ham some advice on his batting stance, and when the last of them had finally trotted home, she turned to Benny with a wide smile.

"They…did they _miss_ me?"

Benny almost felt bad for how surprised she seemed, but in the twilight she looked content, not hurt. He shrugged. "Wasn't the same without you hollering at us. We were playin' awful till you showed up."

Dot looked even more pleased as she hopped onto his bike, chatting about different things the team had improved on.

For once, though, Benny wasn't thinking about baseball.

"Hey, Dot." He stopped at a crosswalk and peered over his shoulder at her. "Is the cotillion really gonna be so bad? Since you like dressing up and stuff."

She shrugged, but there was a tiny frown line on her forehead that kept her indifference from convincing him. "I guess that part will be okay. But I don't like shopping. She's making me go again tomorrow and this time I'll be gone all day. I'm supposed to have fancy fingernails and hair and everything."

"Oh." Benny gnawed on his lip, and made his way across the street. "Okay. I guess we'll see you Sunday?"

"Yeah." They pulled onto her street, and Dot said quietly, "Benny?"

"Yeah?"

"The boys think it's pretty dumb, don't they?"

"Think what's dumb?"

"The cotillion."

His automatic answer was yes, the boys thought it was extremely dumb – himself included. But for some reason, Dot sounded….hopeful.

"Well…it's not their idea of a good time. But they're not gonna make fun of you because you go. Or even because you like going."

"Okay." She didn't sound hurt, but more like she understood. It wouldn't have surprised him if she _did_ understand. Dot wasn't the type to get her feelings hurt over every little thing.

He skidded to a stop in her driveway. The front stoop light was on, but Dot hopped off and headed towards the back of the house.

"See ya, Benny."

"Bye."

He was pedaling away when she shouted after him, "Tell Denunez if he adjusts his grip the way I showed him his fastball oughta strike every time!"

"I will!" he called back. As he rode back through town his mind whirled faster than his bike wheels; an idea was forming, one that absolutely nobody on the team would like or support without major cajoling from him. But…Dot was their friend. There was no denying that now. Her absence earlier that day had been like missing a tooth.

As he put his bike away in the garage, he set his jaw.

One or another, the baseball team was going to the cotillion.

/

Scotty had somehow found the inner strength to eat all of his brussel sprouts and was chugging down a big glass of water to wash down the taste when the doorbell rang. His dad, who had been amused and unsympathetic towards the monstrosities of steamed vegetables during dinner, rose to answer it. His mother got up too, and began gathering dishes.

"Did you boys have fun today?"

He nodded, trying to ignore the lingering bitterness on his tongue. "Yeah. I hit a double and caught one of Benny's hits."

"Good for you, dear." His mother didn't know any more about baseball than Scotty did a year ago, but she was happy that he'd made some friends. He was fixing to tell her about Dot's praise on how his throwing had improved when his dad reappeared, with Benny in tow.

"Oh, hello Benny. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Garrett. Is it okay if I talk to Smalls for a second?"

"Certainly. When you're done we've got brownies and ice cream."

"Okay," Benny grinned, and followed Scotty to his room. Scotty moved the box for his Erector Set off of his desk chair. Benny shut the door and turned to him, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

"We gotta go to the cotillion. For Dot."

Scotty was sure he'd heard wrong. "What?"

"You heard her today. She's dreading it because she doesn't have any friends that are gonna be there. We're the only friends she's got. We have to go."

Scotty stared, but Benny wasn't even smiling, so he couldn't have been kidding. "Benny, I….I've never been to a cotillion."

"Me neither." For the first time, Benny looked unsure of his plan. "But I thought maybe we could ask your mom what we should do. Do you think she'll help?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Scotty chewed his lip in thought, but in the end the only thing to do was ask. So they trotted back to the dining room, where his parents were waiting with melting ice cream and cooling brownies. His mother looked up expectantly.

"All right, Benny. Now, do you like your brownie on the bottom with your ice cream on top? Or the other way around?"

"We wanna go to the cotillion this Saturday," Scotty blurted.

There was a long, awkward pause, and his mother carefully set down the ice cream scoop.

"What was that, dear?"

"See, Mrs. Garrett," Benny seemed unusually nervous, e and kept twisting the hem of his baseball jersey in his hands. "Dot's mom is making her go to a cotillion this Saturday. And she told us today that she doesn't want to go, because she doesn't have any friends who're gonna be there. And…well, _we're_ her friends, so…"

Scotty jumped in. "So we think it'd help her have some fun if we went, too."

His mother studied them both, a pleased look on her face. "I see. Well, boys, I think that's very kind of you. I suppose you want to know what a cotillion is like?"

"Yes, please." Benny sounded desperately relieved; Scotty's mom smiled gently.

"All right then. You bring the rest of the boys here tomorrow morning, and I'll help get you ready. And ask your mother if there's an old tie of your father's you can borrow, Benny. Baseball jerseys aren't quite up to dress code."

Benny grinned. "Thanks, Mrs. Garrett."

"You're most welcome." She picked up the ice cream scoop again. "Now, how do you like your ice cream, Benny?"

/

The next day, Friday, passed in a hazy blur. Benny hadn't realized when he came up with this idea that there were so many _rules_ involved in a cotillion. You had to chew your food a certain way, walk a certain way, smile and wave a certain way – he could see within five minutes of Mrs. Garrett's lesson why Dot was dreading it.

But he stuck by his decision, even when Squints kept huffing every time his posture was corrected, even when Bertram was informed – gently, as Mrs. Garrett did pretty much everything – that popping his gum was not considered proper behavior, and even when Ham belched loudly at the lunch table and refused to even excuse himself.

 _This is for Dot, and you owe her_ , Benny reminded himself as he grit his teeth, and tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Like this?"

"Almost." Mr. Garrett, who had been roped into helping with the tie lessons, gave him a wry grin. "You tied it right, it's just crooked. Here." He stepped forward and adjusted it, and Benny tried not to think about how much it felt like a noose.

Mr. Garrett chuckled. "Must be some girl, for you bunch to put yourselves through this."

Benny didn't like the gleam in the man's eye; it reminded him of the way Mr. Mertle had said _who's your friend_ that first day so long ago.

"She's our friend," was his short reply. Mr. Garrett smiled a little, but patted his shoulder.

"There. All set. Go see if you pass inspection."

He did, and miraculously Mrs. Garrett deemed them all cotillion-worthy by dinner time. They celebrated with pizza that Mr. Garrett had delivered, and by the time they all went home that night Benny was only mildly nervous about the whole thing. The boys, while certainly not having fun, seemed to be willing to tough it out for Dot, and Benny knew that meant more than anything. So on Saturday afternoon, he tied his tie, huffed and stood for his mother to take his picture, and walked across the street to meet the others so Smalls' parents could drive them to the country club.

When they pulled in the drive, every single ounce of Benny's confidence went out the window.

"Dude." Ham's eyes were like dinner plates. "I knew she had money, but…"

Benny had to agree with him. The country club looked like something out of those magazines his mom always read in the checkout at the supermarket. Fancy cars – _limousines_ , even – lined the circular drive that was lit with little paper lanterns. Men in tuxedos opened the doors under a large overhang, revealing boys their own age also in tuxes, and girls in frilly dresses of every color imaginable.

"What is this, the cotillion or the opera?" Mr. Garrett muttered under his breath. Benny tried not to squirm in the front seat; Squints, Yeah-Yeah and Denunez were squished into the back. Behind them, Mrs. Garrett had the rest of the team crammed into her station wagon.

They pulled up to the entrance far too soon, but the stuffy man in the penguin suit opened Benny's door and said, " _good evening, sir_ " like he was Alfred off of Batman and Robin. Benny tripped a little getting out of the car and Yeah-Yeah sniggered, but Benny was too busy trying not to stare at everything to mind.

Mrs. Garrett called out the window, "Ham, please try not to swear."

He glared at his shoes, but she added, "For Dot. She might get into trouble if you cause too much ruckus."

He huffed, but nodded. "Yes ma'am."

She smiled, like she was awfully proud of all of them for learning how to tie a necktie and hold in their burps, and drove away. Smalls fidgeted in his too-big sports jacket, and Benny tried to ignore the way Alfred was looking at them out of the corner of his eye.

"Now what?" Squints asked. He sounded as nervous as Benny felt.

He took a deep breath. "Now, we go find Dot, and make sure she has fun. C'mon."

Inside was even fancier than outside, with crystal chandeliers and thick red carpet and more Alfreds everywhere they looked. The room right inside the front door seemed to be some kind of big hallway, and right across from them was a set of double doors, standing wide open into a big room crowded with lots of small, round tables around the edges. The center of the room was left open, and Benny felt his stomach drop like lead when he realized why.

"I don't see her," Smalls piped up. Benny shook himself – _c'mon Rodriguez, you know better'n to be scared of some white tablecloths_ – and peered around at the different tables. He frowned.

"I don't see any girls at all, now you mention it."

Denunez startled. "What – is there a separate cotillion for the girls? Are we gonna be just stuck in here?"

"Yeah, Benny, how come there's only guys in here?"

"What about the dancin'?"

Benny just stood there, mouth gaping like a goldfish, when another voice cut in.

"Excuse me."

They whirled around to see a tall, red-headed woman in a purple dress and a kind smile.

"You boys seem a little lost."

"We ain't _lost_ , lady," Ham either ignored or forgot every one of the manners lessons from yesterday, and Benny was too far away to stomp on his foot. "We just can't find somebody."

To Benny's relief, the woman smiled. "Well, maybe I can help you then. Who is it you're looking for?"

The boys all turned to him. "Dot – I mean, Dorothy. Dorothy Malone."

The woman's eyebrows shot upwards, but her smile only got bigger. "Oh, that's wonderful. Dorothy will be down in just a bit with the other ladies. You boys can have a seat here, and I'll make sure she knows to look for you."

Benny nodded, even remembered to thank her before they sat down at the table in the back of the room. Every place had three glasses, three forks, two spoons, two knives, four plates, and the napkins were folded all weird with a giant ring around the middle. He was half convinced that even _breathing_ the wrong way would break something.

"This is weird." Squints frowned at the upside-down coffee cup. "Why's there a tiny plate with the coffee cup? How much food could you fit on that thing, anyway?"

"They're called _saucers_ ," Bertram responded sagely, popping his gum as discreetly as one could pop bright pink Double-Bubble at a high society cotillion.

Benny tuned out the rest of the conversation in favor of observing the room; the team's hand-me-down suits and sport jackets looked shabby compared to the crisp white shirts of nearly every boy in the room. Half of them were wearing tuxes like Alfred outside, and all of them had flowers on the lapels.

"We ain't got flowers," he muttered, half to himself, but Ham heard him.

"What? Flowers? We gotta wear _flowers_ for this shin dig?"

"I dunno," Benny all but snapped. "Everyone else is."

" _I_ ain't wearin' no roses," Squints frowned.

"Well, I don't wanna either, but I don't wanna get Dot in trouble, do you?"

The whole table fell silent, until finally Denunez groaned. "Well, where are we gonna get flowers for all of us anyhow? My brother had to buy one for his prom last year and it was expensive, and he had to order it weeks ahead of time."

That was a question Benny didn't have an answer to, but he was in the middle of figuring it out when the nice red-headed lady from before approached their table.

"Boys." She smiled kindly, pretending not to notice the enormous pink bubble protruding out of Bertram's mouth. "Come with me, please."

Dumbly, they got up and followed her back into the foyer, down the hall and up a back staircase. The second floor was a long, empty hallway, but he could hear giggles and voices, high-pitched with nerves and excitement, from behind almost every closed door. The woman led them halfway down the hall before knocking on one.

It cracked open, and Bertram choked on his gum.

The woman was…well, _curvy_ , and blonde, and looked like she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine. Golden curls fell past her shoulders, big blue eyes were framed in dark, dramatic makeup, all over a full, bright red mouth. Her long, deep green evening gown had a long slit on one side to show off one tan leg; Benny was dully aware of Ham swatting his arm but he was too busy gawking at how much this woman resembled Dot to hit him back.

"Sarah," she greeted their tour guide, and Benny almost choked on _air_.

Even the voice was the same.

"Hello, Susan. I've got some visitors for Dorothy."

Mrs. Malone's – at least, that's what he was assuming her name was – eyes flitted to the team, before she opened the door further to reveal what looked like a posh hotel room. "You can come in. She'll be out in a moment to meet her escort." The last sentence was said in a raised voice, and directed towards a closed door, presumably the bathroom. She followed Ms. Sarah back out into the hallway and shut the door behind her.

Ham swore in a loud whisper, earning him a hard elbow to the ribs from Smalls. "You see her?"

"What a _dame_ ," Bertram said, not seeming to mind that he'd had to swallow his gum to keep from inhaling it.

"Stop it," Smalls said, his voice more angry than they'd ever heard it. "You'll upset Dot, talkin' – "

He was interrupted by the bathroom door jerking open.

"I don't care how _nice_ of a boy he is, Susan, I'm not – oh." Dot's voice and feet both stopped awkwardly, leaving them all staring at each other without any idea of what to do next.

Benny felt like the floor had dropped out from under him; Dot was wearing a navy blue dress with a poofy skirt and _sparkly_ trim and _lace_ trim and it was one of those magic dresses he'd seen Wendy Peffercorn and her friends wearing to winter formal, the ones that didn't have any sleeves or straps but seemed to stay up by magic. She was wearing white gloves up to her elbows and sparkly shoes and her hair was curled, and to make matters worse, she was wearing red lipstick like her mother.

She was pretty. _Really_ pretty. But she wasn't Dot, and Benny was trying to figure out why that upset him so much when Ham spoke for them all.

"Kinda hard to field a grounder in those gloves, ain't it?"

Dot looked down at her hands, then smirked. "I think I could manage." She cleared her throat. "What….what're you guys doin' here?"

"Benny's idea," Ham said nonchalantly, as if he hadn't fought the whole plan like a sabre tooth tiger.

Dot looked at him, eyes wide, and he had clear his own throat several times.

"W-well…you said….you said you weren't gonna have any friends here, so…" he shrugged.

Her mouth opened and closed several times before any sound came out. "You…you came just so I wouldn't be lonely?"

"Well gosh, don't make it sound all sissy like that," Ham frowned. "We came so you wouldn't have to put up with all those losers downstairs by yourself."

Dot seemed to still be trying to piece everything together. "So… _all_ of you came?"

" 'Course we did," Denunez responded. "You're on the team."

Dot's responding smile made all of them relax a little bit, and when she reached and affectionately slugged Squints on the arm Benny felt like things were back to normal. This was still Dot, with her friendly punches and teasing, her easy comebacks for all things baseball, just wrapped up in a fancy dress instead of overall cutoffs.

There was a knock on the door, and both of the women came back inside.

"Dorothy, dear," the blonde said. "I've not met your friends."

Dot's smile had vanished immediately, but she nodded and pointed to each of them by name, and finished collectively: "This is my baseball team."

Ms. Sarah's smile was as kind as ever, but Susan looked like a hawk analyzing her prey.

"Dear, I'm not sure a _baseball team_ is – "

Dot's chin came up, and Ms. Sarah cut in smoothly.

"Now, Susan, look at it this way – Dorothy won't be by herself all evening." That seemed to pacify Dot's mother, and Ms. Sarah nodded. "Dorothy, do you think any of these nice gentlemen would be willing to be your escort for the evening?"

Dot blinked. "Uh…"

"What's that?" Ham demanded. This time Benny _was_ close enough to stomp his foot, and the glare he got in return was more than a little sheepish. Ham grumbled under his breath and tried again. "I mean…excuse me, but what's that?"

"It means like you'd be my pretend date," Dot explained. "You walk me down the stairs, sit by me during dinner, and we have to dance at least three times."

All of them – Benny included – visibly recoiled. Susan's nostrils flared, but Ms. Sarah seemed to be hiding a smile.

"I'm sure since there's so many of you, you could take turns. That way none of you have to dance three times in a row. Just once."

That…was not much better, to be honest, but Dot was looking determinedly at the ground and biting the inside of her cheek, just like she always did during practice when she'd make a suggestion that nobody wanted to follow. Benny sighed.

"Okay. Dot, which of us do you want?"

Startled, her head jerked up. "Um – well, you guys can draw straws for it. I know it's not gonna be fun for any of you."

That seemed fair, but they didn't have straws and so Ms. Sarah picked a number between one and fifty and the three closest guesses were the lucky winners – Benny, Smalls, and Denunez.

"Perhaps we should – " Susan started to say, but Dot cut her off.

"They're my friends." A hard glare followed, and after an uncertain look in Denunez's direction, Susan wisely didn't say any more.

"All right, you all come out now so Dorothy can finish getting ready, and you three – you stay here in the hall. Susan, if you're ready to go downstairs could you show the rest of them back to their table? I've put them on the table closest to the punch."

In short order the three escorts were enduring a crash-course on the waltz, and Benny – since the number he'd guessed was the closest – waited at the top of the stairs in line with a bunch of men who had all the girls on their arms. Dot suddenly appeared, her curls slightly askew and her smile more than a little nervous.

"All right, _Dorothy_ ," he said with a grimace. "What do I do now?"

She rolled her eyes. "Stand up straight. Put your right hand on your stomach – no, higher, yeah – quit squirming, this isn't gonna be painful." She checked his posture one more time, nodded, slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, and tilted her nose up in the air. "And don't call me Dorothy."

Benny grinned. _Definitely_ still Dot.

/

They were here. All of them – even Bertram and Ham – came for _her_.

Dot was still numb with shock, like she was dreaming that Benny was waiting beside her at the top of the big, double staircase. He kept wiping his other hand on his pants, and she could feel the effort he was putting into not fidgeting through his coat sleeve.

He looked nice. They all did, despite the fact that no one's jacket fit correctly because they had all bummed one off their dads, despite the fact that the top button on Ham's shirt was undone, despite the fact that Squints' glasses were still smudged, and even despite the fact that they all looked about as comfortable as a balloon animal in a cactus patch.

"If you trip in those shoes, am I allowed to laugh?"

Dot stared, but laughed once her shock faded. "No. You're never supposed to laugh at a lady."

"Well, you ain't a lady."

She frowned, stung, but Benny seemed to know why that statement bothered her. "I mean – you look nice. And you were right the other day – you're still a girl and you like girly things sometimes. But if all this," he gestured to the crystal chandeliers, the string quartet playing downstairs, the lush evening gowns, "is what it means to be a lady then…well, Dot, it ain't you."

She was staring again, but she couldn't help it. No one, other than her dad, had ever summed her up so well.

Just then the announcer called her name, and Dot gave herself a mental shake, gave Benny's arm a quick pinch and whispered, "Smile."

He grimaced, but managed to look content enough as they descended the stairs to polite applause and camera flashes. They were one of the last to be announced, and less than five minutes later the debutantes and their escorts made their way to the dance floor. Benny was wound so tight it felt like his arm was the coiled spring in a catapult.

"Calm down," she muttered.

He glared at her. "Sure thing, boss." He clapped his hand onto her waist, with the air of someone who desperately wanted to rip off the proverbial band-aid. His other palm was a little sweaty, but her fancy gloves were the only reason he didn't know her own hand was worse.

"Back with my right foot?" He asked, his eyes betraying how nervous he actually was. But his voice and the almost perfect posture hid all of it from anybody who didn't know him.

She grinned up at him, and forgot about how her shoes pinched and how much Susan had pestered her to ask a _nice boy_ from the dance lessons to be her escort instead. "Yep. Don't look at your feet, though. Looks amateur."

"I _am_ an amateur," he retorted. "Where am I supposed to look, then?"

Dot suddenly realized what the answer was, and immediately wished she'd told him to stare at his shoes all night. "Um…well. Me, actually."

"Okay." He didn't sound as awkward about it as Dot felt, so she tried to ignore the squirming in her guts and waited for the music to start.

Benny suddenly mumbled a swear word, glaring blackly over her shoulder.

"What?"

Instantly his gaze came back to hers. "Nothin'."

She started to look behind her, but his hand squeezed hers and the other's fingers tightened on her waist. In surprise she gawked at him.

"Don't worry about it, Dottie. You gotta help me with this dance, because if I break your toes I'll have to give you a piggy-back ride to the sandlot every day."

"Okay," she agreed, still in shock from his hands – which hadn't relaxed their hold – and the way _Dottie_ had fallen so easily from his mouth.

The music started, and his eyes widened comically in panic before he moved.

Benny wasn't…terrible at dancing, she discovered. He looked so uncomfortable doing it that she almost felt guilty, but it wasn't like she'd asked them to come. But he'd picked up the steps pretty quickly and now they were moving around the floor, fitting in just fine with all of the others.

"See? This isn't so bad."

He rolled his eyes and grumbled, "If you say so."

The dance didn't last long, and they both released each other before the last note faded away. Dot clapped politely, and turned to the boys's table.

"All right, your torture is over. Go sit down and send whoever's next."

Benny looked like he had just been pardoned a death sentence. "Okay."

Dot rolled her eyes, but grinned. "Thanks, Benny. You guys didn't have to do this, y'know."

He paused, all traces of teasing gone, and looked at her. "No, we didn't have to. But we needed to. And," he hesitated again, his neck and ears turning a dull red, "y-you look really, um. P-pretty."

She didn't say anything – _couldn't_ say anything – and so she just stared. His blush deepened but he huffed defensively.

"What? You said you liked gettin' dolled up so I thought I'd let you know you don't suck at it."

Surprised, she laughed. "Thanks, Benny. You don't like gettin' dressed up, but you don't suck at it either."

He grinned, and looked down at himself smugly. She rolled her eyes.

"Would you scram already? Denunez is waiting to come over here and dance the next one with me."

/

Scotty had stumbled around for his turn on the dance floor, and tried not to make a face when Ham stuff half of his steak into his mouth, but overall the cotillion was a lot more fun than he'd expected. The mashed potatoes were better than even his mom's, though Bertram had warned him not to tell his mother that when he got back home.

Dot had even been allowed to sit at their table, and it was almost like they were back on Mr. Mertle's back porch, eating sandwiches and keeping their popsicles away from Hercules.

"So, Malone." Ham took a healthy gulp of his lemonade, hand fisted around the glass' stem in a way that Dot's mother probably found barbaric. "How's that dress stay up?"

"What?" Dot only sounded surprised, not upset, but the entire table froze. Benny looked like he dearly wished he was close enough to kick Ham under the table. Scotty wished he could kick hard enough for Ham to feel it.

"The dress," Ham explained, waving his fork haphazardly at her neckline. "It ain't got any straps or sleeves, how's it not fallin' down?"

"Oh." Dot looked down at herself, and shrugged. "Boobs."

Benny, who had taken a badly timed sip of water, choked violently.

Ham didn't appear concerned for Benny's lack of oxygen. "Boobs? _Boobs_ keep it up?"

"Yes." Dot looked amused.

"Huh." Ham chewed on a dinner roll, squinting across the table at the area of Dot's body in question. "I didn't know you had any."

He immediately flinched, scowling at both Scotty, and at Denunez on his other side. "Jeez! It was just an observation."

Scotty's toes were hurting a lot more than Ham's leg probably was, but he didn't care. "You don't say things like that to girls," he said, for once unfazed at Ham's dark look.

"It's okay, guys." Dot shrugged again. "Up until six months ago I _didn't_ have any."

Benny, who had just recovered, choked again, but this time on what seemed to be nothing. Dot looked at him, concerned.

"Benny, you okay?"

"Fine," he rasped.

Dot frowned, like she didn't believe him, but she didn't get a chance to reply.

"I can't believe this." Scotty froze, knowing that snooty voice anywhere. Ham swore, though he at least tried to do it quietly. Scotty still frowned before he looked over his shoulder to see Phillips and two of his cronies, wearing tuxedoes and looking down their noses.

"Hi, Phillips." Dot took a dainty bite of her steak, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"You invited these clowns? _Here?_ "

"Yes." Dot was either unaware of or ignoring the hostile vibe between the two groups, and wiped her mouth with the same careful, ladylike motions. "They're my baseball team."

"Well, looks like I was wrong. You weren't lying about keeping stats for somebody." Phillips sneered.

"So you've finally figured out what I told you three months ago when you first invited me to come watch you and your imps at your fancy field." Dot's tone was the model of gentility, but her eyes shot sparks across the table.

Phillips' eyes narrowed. "You –"

"Get lost," she hissed. All traces of sweet, lady-like Dot were gone, replaced by the wildcat version Scotty was much more familiar with.

Phillips scowled, and cast one more contemptuous look around their table. "Y'know, Dorothy, I guess I expected better than you. Why'd you pick them, anyway?"

"Same reason why I told you off at school for pickin' on Ham – they're my friends." Dot cut another piece of steak, and her movements made Bertram eye the knife in her hand with no small amount of trepidation. "Now are you gonna go away or am I gonna have to show everyone here how easy it is to make you cry?"

Mumbling darkly, Phillips stomped away.

Scotty stared, as did the rest of them, awestruck. Finally Ham spoke for them all.

"Y'know Malone, right now you look like a real priss, but you're pretty cool."

Dot beamed. "Thanks, Ham."

"Dorothy?"

The smile melted off of Dot's face like butter; she turned to look over her shoulder at her mother.

"What, Susan?"

"I just saw young Mr. Phillips over here, did he not ask you for a dance?"

Dot turned back around and snorted inelegantly into her potatoes. "No, he's not _that_ stupid."

"Dorothy," Susan frowned. "He's a very nice boy, I'd like for you to be friends."

"Well, too bad. He's a brat. I don't want to be his friend."

"Dorothy – "

"Dad would have told me to stay away from him." Dot turned to face her mother again, and her words coupled with the steel in her voice seemed to do the trick. Susan jaw tightened, but she sighed and walked away.

For several moments, they were all once again struck speechless.

Benny cleared his throat. "Dottie – "

"I hate her for the same reasons," she suddenly blurted. Her eyes were riveted on the basket of rolls. "She's a rich, self-centered snob who can't stand for everything not to look like it came out of a _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine."

None of them knew what to say, though it was obvious everyone was trying to think of something – they were all awkwardly glancing at her, pretending not to notice the way her eyes were shimmering a little too much in the candlelight.

Scotty suddenly had an idea.

"Have you ever seen _Guns of Navarone_?"

Dot blinked. "No."

"My dad just bought it on tape. You all wanna come over and watch it? My mom can make popcorn."

They all stared at him, but Dot's grin was back. "Does it have explosions?"

"Yeah, lots of 'em."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" She shoved back her chair and dropped her fancy linen napkin onto her nearly full plate. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

/


End file.
